


Love Takes All

by ink182



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Eventual Romance, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prince Aster Bunnymund, Prince Jack frost, Romance, Royalty, Strangers to Lovers, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-10 01:42:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17416580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ink182/pseuds/ink182
Summary: [TITLE EXPECTED TO CHANGE POSSIBLY]“Love is all, it gives all, it takes all”-- Soren Kierkegaard“The beauty of love is that, You can fall into it with the most unexpected person at the most unexpected time.”-- Ritu GhatoureyFacing the unexpected death of his father, Prince Aster is sent to North Kingdom by his older brother to represent the Pooka while securing an alliance with the House of Overland. He wants to do his people proud. Meanwhile, Prince Jackson from House of Overland is being pushed by his parents to continue courting almost three years after a particularly traumatic experience that changed the way others perceive him as a person. Aster figures that getting close to Jack is a step in the right direction of forming good relations between kingdoms. But life and love are unpredictable, so Aster and Jack come to realize.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> UPDATE (18 Jan 2019): 
> 
> I was really tired when I finished the prologue and didn't beta read before publishing it, so I went ahead and rewrote/added in some details and sentences to make the prologue better.

His entire world was shrouded in black. Dark like the night sky missing the stars that made the view worthwhile. Empty, and cold, and unfamiliar.

Wherever Jack was in this darkness, his body felt detached from his consciousness-- flickering in and out of presence like a flame from a candle. He couldn’t feel his hands, or his legs. Did he even have a body to begin with? His mind feebly attempted to recollect himself mentally. Each thought rippled lazily to the other like a drop of water breaking the smooth surface of a lake.

_Where am I?_

_It’s… so cold…_

Cold.

Something shifted in the darkness. It broke the seamless surface and Jack gained a little of himself back. Something twitched. A finger. Another thought.

_What is this?_

From where Jack couldn’t feel anything tangible he did. Something cold pressed against him-- indistinguishable from his own lack of warmth-- hard and smooth against his back and his consciousness grounded itself to this. His body felt together again. It grew heavier, no longer light as it once felt. And above it all, Jack saw a white halo of light slowly burn into his vision. It grew brighter and brighter the larger it grew until it overcame him and all of the emptiness around him was replaced with white.

The next thing Jack could recall when his vision came back into focus was a black sky heralded with stars and constellations and a full moon. He blinked and stared at the clear sky above him. The stars stared back as Jack tried to collect his thoughts. A shuddering breath came from his chest as he pushed himself up. A wince of pain followed, along with the sensation of pins and needles that seemed to prickle throughout his entire body. His hand came up to touch his neck-- each breath burned his throat. It felt like he was choked but began to breathe again. Jack pulled his hand away and then tried to push himself up to stand. He got halfway up before his knees buckled-- from the pins and needles-- and he slipped forward into the snow.

 _Why does my body feel so heavy?_ He wondered. Jack pushed himself onto his knees and stared at the patch of snow he landed on. There was something hard beneath the shallowness of snow and much colder to the touch. Curious, he used his hands to wipe some of the snow aside and underneath the show he found the dark tint of water frozen over. Jack stared at it in confusion and sat back, looking around him. That’s when he saw a tree several meters away. It was bare of all but snow resting on its branches, with large rocks at its base and a particularly thick, crooked branch low enough for a person to sit on while staring at the water. It looked familiar to him, for some reason. And several meters away from the tree, near where he stood, was a hole in the ice showing the black lake water on which he was sitting directly over. He hadn't realized that there was a hole in the ice close to him when he woke up. The snow around it, except for what marks he made, was untouched and even. A glimmer of recognition appeared in Jack’s eyes.

_...The lake? Why am I here?_

Jack was even more puzzled. He slowly stood back up and succeeded this time around with only a slight sway about him. He looked around more, the gears in his head churning. Of course he knew the lake would be covered in show and frozen over, it was winter. A village toddler would understand that, much less the son of royalty. But it felt like deja vu, the more he took in. He was here before. . . but when? He was always there. This particular lake was his favorite place outside the courtyard of the castle, a place to visit when he wanted to be alone with his thoughts. If he could get away without garnering the attention of his parents, palace guards, or likewise, that was.  

But why was he there now? For what reason?

 

A cold breeze strongly gusted over Jack’s shoulder and encompassed his body in frigidness. He looked down in surprise, for it seemed that the wind came to a swirl at his feet, picking up snow within a close vicinity and throwing it into the sky the way a small child does when playing in snow for the first time. Jack's eyes widened at the event and turned in a circle. He was standing in a large, near-perfect circle in the middle of frozen lake, all of the snow removed from within it. Aside from himself, the only thing sharing the circle was the most peculiar tree branch the prince had ever seen. He felt a breath of crisp air blow at the back of his feet, and then saw the branch slightly rattle from another gust. 

_Is this. . . mine?_

He stooped to claim it in his hands, and turned it over a few times, studying the rough bark and knots in the wood. The branch itself-- long, thin, and with a peculiar hook near one end-- was heavy in his hands, but not too much so. It carried the weight similar to that of one of King Nicholas'-- Jack's father-- staffs, his royal one or the kind he would occasionally make when he had the time for carpentry. 

 _It’s just a stick._ He ran a hand over one side, just to feel the texture of it on his skin, when suddenly a feeling of cold coalesced in his hand. Jack gasped at the feeling. He couldn’t describe it, the way it-- whatever _it_ was-- just. . . trickled. . . out of his hand. Nor could he articulate what it was like when he watched the branch begin to emanate a soft, light blue glow along the wooden cracks and spaces between pieces of bark. The surface grew frigid beneath his tough and Jack watched, in a mix of awe and slight fear, as a thin layer of frost grew from the center of the branch-- where he was holding it-- and consumed its entirety up to the ends. Jack wanted to drop the branch, which know resembled more of a staff the more he looked at it, but he wasn't sure why he couldn't just let go. He was unable to understand what had just happened.  

“W… this branch. What is this?” he croaked. His throat burned like he hadn’t spoken in weeks. “Did I do this?” _What did I do?_

Something came in a wave over him, so strong it nearly knocked him over. A wave of memories, all of them jumbled inside his head as he racked himself to put them together.

 _The lake. . . this branch . . . cold? No, sad. Anger. Ice._ His head started to throb painfully, but he pushed the pain aside to redirect his attention elsewhere.  _Lake. Ana. Branch_ \-- Jack froze and gripped the stick tighter, his stomach dropping. “Ana!” He threw his gaze around the lake, a sense of urgency overcoming him. “She was here! We both were. . .”

Jack tried to rack his mind for more memories of what happened. _We were here. We. . ._ The branch felt much heavier in his grasp, as things slowly pieced together. _She was going to fall. I pushed her away. I fell. . ._

 _Nothing makes sense._ Jack looked over to the hole in the lake he saw earlier. A black, liquid void beneath a hardened shell. A prison, which getting caught in would certainly mean death.

A mental image of being surrounded by black water flooded his mind. The darkness of being submerged, the weight of it all wrestling him down to the lake's deep bottom and getting tangled amongst the plants and weeds. The water burning his vision as he raised his hands above his head and yearned to be free, yearned for his sister to not try and be foolish and save him, yearned for her to run home and tell her parents of their son's sacrifice as his vision slowly faded to black. Then, entered the halo of light that woke him up to meet the night sky. A halo of what, exactly? 

Jack's eyes lifted once again to the sky, to the moon in particular. Night's ethereal pearl, it didn't shy away from his gaze. The moon had the same impression that the halo of light gave him. The staff was gripped tighter than ever in Jack's hands. He wasn't sure what to make of it, any of this. He was tired, cold, and wanted to go home. It had to be a bad dream, right? The moment Jack would make it back to the palace and crawl into his warm bed, he would be awoke by a servant, or a messenger. Probably his father wanting to discuss his studies with him, or his sister wanted to play a game with him. But at the back of his mind, Jack was afraid he already woke up. 

Without any cue, the wind picked up around him. He watched as more snow lifted up and got carried off in the direction of a slope near the edge of the lake. The gust carried it up and over, disappearing into the night sky. The same direction as the palace. Jack looked up at the incline, then at the staff. He took a deep breath and exhaled, forming steam from his mouth. He took a step forward, then another, wobbling slightly but undaunted, and repeated until he managed to make it across the lake and to the slope. He took the non-hooked end of the staff and decided to use it as leverage to climb the snowy, slick hill. He pressed it firmly into the ground and began to climb. 

Dream or not, he wanted to go home. 

\---

Jack’s body felt stone-like. Every step he took exhausted him more than the last, even with the help from the staff. The deep snow made the trek back home all the more difficult, but he was lucky the moonlight lit the path ahead of him. There were some moments where he did stumble, either because a patch of snow was deeper than he expected it to be or his legs gave out. But he forced himself to stand back up. He had to get home and try to make sense of this. Either he fell through the lake after saving Ana, or he dreamt it all. He hoped it was the latter, but Jack wasn't too sure. Just another nightmare or weird dream to repress. 

He was so cold that the wind and snow did not seem to affect him, he must be chilled to the bone. Or so tired that his body no longer cared. After what seemed like eternity, Jack finally approached the palace walls. They were made of stone and several meters high. This particular section of the wall walled in the garden courtyard, where his family and guests enjoyed strolling around and looking at the different beautiful plants, or reading in privacy among trimmed bushes or trees. It also had a secret entrance-- or at least, that’s what he and his sister Ana called it. It was the only way he and Ana could leave the palace without the guards noticing. They would crawl through and play outside of the palace walls. Jack got down on his knees and dug around in the snow near the wall, until he found an unmistakable hole in the wall. It was large enough for him to crawl through, had he been a small child it would have been easier. Jack slipped in through the hole and squirmed himself through the other side, and through a bush that hid the hole from view from within the garden. The staff was a bit more difficult to pull through the hole, but he managed to get it through without it breaking. With that being said, he pulled himself back up and made his way to an outside corridor that would lead him into the palace.

He was surprised he still had enough strength to push open the large wooden door and let himself inside the palace. Even more so as he wandered the hall and into the throne room a few minutes later, where he expected his parents to be. He soon found that that was not the case and something was wrong as he went from room to room. There was no one in sight. Not a single servant, nor a guard. No Ana, no King or Queen Overland. Jack grew increasingly worried and perturbed.

 _Where is everyone?_ Even at night guards patrolled the halls, or at least you’d see someone. Jack’s eyebrows furrowed and felt a slight jolt in his stomach. _Did something bad happen?_  

He limped through the empty hall outside of the throne room, his footsteps the only sounds emanating within the space. There was not a single soul to be found. He made his way to a side hall and wandered in the perturbed silence until he found himself near the chapel. That was when he heard a deep voice softly echo off the stone and tapestried walls. When Jack approached the chapel's niche hall, he found it lit with candles that formed the path to a set of wooden doors. One door was open just a crack. Jack moved to the door and leaned in to look through that crack. 

What he saw surprised him.

The chapel was hardly ever used in the castle. It was normally reserved for weddings, funerals, swearing-in ceremonies and the like. Jack himself had never really paid much attention to the room growing up unless there was an official event happening inside that he had to attend, or if he were playing hide and seek with Ana. The chapel wasn’t overtly grand; there were five pairs of pews and two in each row. A large stained glass normally let in enough sunlight for daytime ceremonies, but stands of candles made do in the case it was night time.

All of the pews were filled by people. He couldn’t recognize most of them because their backs were to the door, but there were a few he could recognize solely by their figure even just by looking at the back of their heads. He could recognize the wispy hair of his godfather in one of the front pews that was reserved for members of the royal family, as well as the height of a family friend whose son Jack was childhood friends with. There might have been a few more political figures, or visiting royalty he was unaware of. But standing in front of it all was the old cleric, wearing all black and with a somber expression. He seemed to have just finished a speech and then Jack saw his father, King Nicholas, rise from the front-most pew to take a stand at the front of the chapel behind a ceremonious pulpit with the cleric. Jack’s chest clenched with worry when he saw the mournful expression of his father. His father was good at hiding pain and sadness, always wanting to look strong in front of his kingdom. It didn't suit his large, strong frame over such a tiny pulpit, appearing much larger while wearing a fine, black fur cape and placing his large hands firmly on the pulpit top. Even at his distance Jack could see the red puffiness of the king's eyes, and noticed how tired the king looked with his greying hair and beard. 

_Did something bad happen?_

The king cleared his throat politely and Jack noticed how everyone paid more earnest attention to his father.

“Close friends and family," King Nicholas began. His voice, usually light with friendliness, was scratchy. There was no light in his eye. "We are gathered here today to bear witness to one of life’s saddest truths. Life is a gift. We are given it by our mothers and fathers, we cherish and try to make the most of it, we fight for it in times of hardships. But--” King Nicholas bowed his head and clenched the pulpit top's sides. “--life is a gift, nonetheless. It can be taken away without a moment’s notice.”

A quiet, gasping sob came somewhere from the rows of people. Jack blinked felt an ache slowly creep through his body. He had first felt it in his head back on the lake, but chose to ignore it. Now it was growing stronger, along with the feeling of his energy slowly draining from his body.

_Why am I so tired?_

_Why is Papa so sad?_

He put part of his weight on the staff and wondered if he should enter the chapel, and disrupt whatever was going on. If this was a dream, nothing would happen. But on the slim chance that this was real life. . . what would happen? He remained put and put his eye back to the crack in time to focus on his father’s next words.

“-- ny things have happened in the course of a week, but the most prominent event is the reason why we are gathered tonight. We are here to mourn the death of the House of Overland’s heir, the crowned prince of North Kingdom, my so-n.” There was a small crack in his voice. “Prince Jackson Alexei Overland.”

The world around Jack seemed to have gone still. His stomach churned and he could feel his chest tighten even more. His mind tuned out the following words from his father’s speech. All he could do was watch, sound muted, as his father continued, the way he inhaled to calm himself, the way he motioned to the audience or the space above him as he gave what was supposed to be a eulogy. Jack processed it all, but sound did not come back to him until he watched his mother and sister stand from their pew and join Jack’s father at the front of the chapel. Jack’s hand moved to the door-handle.

The queen’s face was as equally mournful as her husband’s with the same red, puffy eyes and threatening tears, but their daughter’s face was flushed red and tear-stained. The queen had a hand on her shoulder and held her close in a comforting stance. The king pulled the two of them close in an embrace and let out a heavy sigh. The three of them wore all black to mourn what King Nicholas called Jack's death. 

“Prince Jackson was beloved by all and loved all. He had good wits and a good heart. He would have made a fine king someday. His sixteen years of life was a gift to us all, but the last gift he gave was that was preserving life. In other words, saving his sister, Princess Anastasia, from an uncertain fate.”

Jack and Ana’s parents gently pushed Ana to the front of them, so that everyone’s-- including Jack’s-- attention was on her. Ana’s hands were twisted together in the lace of her funeral dress and she slowly brought her gaze up to meet the people in the pews. A single tear ran down her cheek as she took a deep breath. “My brother, the prince, saved my life that day. The frozen lake ice cracked and if I had made a wrong move I surely would have fallen in and drowned.” Her shoulders bounced slightly like she was stifling a sob. “I… I was so scared. But my brother saved me that day.” She looked up at the ceiling. “I wish I could thank him.”

“He was a fine boy.” Their mother spoke up, rubbing Ana’s shoulder in a soothing way. “He was kind and loved his family and his kingdom. He made us proud to call him our son, our prince.” She wiped a tear away. “Our hero, for saving his sister’s life.”

“We ask tonight that you all reflect on Prince Jackson’s character, and carry on the fond memories we all have of him. We may mourn him, we will never forget him.”

After the royal family finished their speeches, the cleric reclaimed his spot behind the pulpit and began to lead everyone in a ceremonious funeral hymn, and everyone bowed their heads solemnly and followed example.

Jack wasn’t sure whether anyone from the pews noticed when he slowly pushed the doors open and slipped into the chapel. Subconsciously, even he wasn’t aware that he had just entered. Jack’s body seemed to move on its own, one step in front of the other, slowly sauntering across the intricate rug that furnished the center aisle, past the first pew in the back. Nothing felt real. Not with the frost-sheened staff in his hand, not with the exhaustion and pain that threatened to collapse him on the aisle rug in front of everyone at his own funeral. His _funeral_. He did not register the several gasps that erupted from someone in the pews, followed by a single scream from someone in the far left of the chapel. Jack felt caught in a wave of reactions and murmurs, grief and fatigue, as he got halfway down the aisle and his knees buckled. He collapsed onto his side on the ground at the very time his family looked up from their mourning.

Once again, time seemed to slow and sound disappeared. Like drowning in a lake, the darkness was creeping up on him once again. 

But in those last moments of consciousness, Jack saw his mother reel back in shock at seeing her son's phantom and fainted. Luckily, King Nicholas managed to catch her from hitting the floor and yelled something. She was passed off to a nearby guard and the cleric, who rushed forward to help the king. Meanwhile, Ana rushed past everyone, her long brown hair swishing as she ran down the aisle towards him. She was a shadow when she reached him, dropping to her knees and looming over her brother while their father followed pursuit. The last thing Jack felt was King Nicholas lift his son in a half-cradling position against his chest, and the rumble of his chest as he seemed to have yelled something. Jack's eyes fluttered shut for good, held in the protective arms of his father, and his head lolled back as everything went dark and still. 


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prince Aster and his older brother, the newly crowned king of Eastre Islands following the recent death of their father, finally arrive in North Kingdom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooooo first chapterrrrr.
> 
> I'm kinda in a depressive/tired slump rn so if there's any inconsistencies or mistakes it's bc I was either not in an okay good to beta read/fact check this chapter or because I'm not a good writer lmao. 
> 
> I appreciated the amount of support the prologue got and I hope I can hear more of your guys' lovely comments for this chapter and the future ones too <3

Eyes the color of freshly grown leaves stared wearily out to sea, watching nothing in particular. Not that there was much to be excited about anyways. The open sea was dark and churning, colliding against the side of the ship and occasionally sending a cold, salty spray up at its passenger. It annoyed Aster but he didn’t budge from his spot looking out from the deck of a sturdy ship. He was accustomed to traveling by vessel. He was Pooka after all, and living on a small archipelago meant that there was occasionally a need to travel from one island to another. Being Pooka royalty was another matter, as his father would sometimes take him, his older brother, or one of his younger siblings along with him on a voyage to a nearby kingdom. 

_ ‘There is so much I want ya to see outside the islands,’ _ his father would tell him. 

He always tried to stress the idea of seeing what was out there, conversing with new cultures and growing one’s knowledge of the world-- magic, arts, dance, history, everything was worth traveling for. Aster’s father seemingly had this lecture memorized through years of instilling it into him, his older brother Quil, and anyone else who he felt needed a lesson in diplomacy. And he always did so with a rustic smile-- the appearance of a truly happy man. Unfortunately, the crinkling around his eyes and mouth did little to distract from the worry lines on his forehead, or the strands of hair streaking gray in his widows peak. 

Aster gave a gruff sigh and let his upper body slump more against the ship’s wooden railing. His mood definitely matched the emotion of the sky-- grey, cloudy, and dreary. Emotional turmoil churning inside him. Despite that motion, part of him felt. . . stuck. 

“Ya know, mopin’ around won’t change a thing,” said a voice behind him. 

Aster gave a  _ ‘hmph _ ’ sound. He continued to stare at the cloudy sky, so dense that he pictured someone taking a sewing needle and stitching together all the clouds they could find until they created a blanket for the sky. Aster was joined on his right by a young man who looked similar to him. They both had iodine skin and gray hair, and anyone who was familiar with Pooka culture would know by the floral marking on their forehead that the two of them were Pooka royalty. Those of whom who knew Pooka royalty would know that the two were brothers. 

“‘M not mopin’, Quil.” 

Quil mirrored his younger brother’s stance so both princes were leaning against the railing. He was dressed in a similar fashion to Aster-- a brown wool cape covered his shoulders, and underneath he wore a light-weight, long-sleeved robe made up of various earthly hues and fastened around the waist with a sash. It had a high collar, and was considered to be the most formal dress of the Pooka, also known as a  _ koarika _ . The beautiful shades of green and browns looked considerably out of place against the desolate sky. A gust of salty wind and spray hit his hands on the railing and he retracted, pulling his cape close around him. The  _ koarikas _ weren’t suited for northern weather, but for the sweltery and temperate weather of the Eastre Islands that they were from.

“You are.”

“No, I just forgot how bloody freezing it gets up here.” Aster drew his hands close to his body and rubbed them together. “I think my fingers are gonna fall off.” 

Quil nodded, although it seemed like he didn’t fully believe his brother. “. . . It is bloody freezing.” He looked at the sea, then over at Aster. “Remember the last time we came up here? I can’t remember if the cold was worse back then or not.”

Aster, who was frowning for most of the time, had the hint of a smile pulling at his lips. “It was worse, but only because it was rainin’ and ya almost slipped off the ship,” he teased. 

Quil reached over and slightly yanked a free strand of Aster’s hair, which Aster had gathered up into a bun. “I almost slipped because ya didn’t grab me in time. Da did, but he was bloody mad at us after.” He chuckled and gave a small smile when he heard Aster do the same. 

The two fell into a short silence, sharing in the sounds of the waves overlapping one another and the rustle of the white sails above them. Aster’s throat felt dry and when he looked up after a few minutes of this silence he saw his brother meet his eyes. Both had shining green eyes, the same color as their father’s. Aster’s mouth opened, then closed when things he wanted to say didn’t come out. His eyes fell back down to watch the water and he clenched the ship railing in frustration. Once again, he felt stuck. It’s been about a  _ week. _ Why couldn’t he move forward, like everyone else?  

Aster felt a hand firmly fall on his right shoulder. “Look. . . I know ya miss Da.” Aster breathed, but didn’t move to remove his brother’s hand from his shoulder. “I miss him too. Everyone does.” 

“I know,” Aster said. He coughed to cover the scratchiness of his voice. “It just seems like, I dunno, everyone’s movin’ too fast.” 

“What is?” 

“I dunno. This alliance, the coronation, you?” Aster straightened his posture and turned to Quil. Even though Aster was standing tall at six foot two, his brother was two inches taller when he did the same and stood up straight. 

“Aster--” Quil sighed. 

“Da’s funeral was a week ago, Quil! A week, and now everything’s s’pposed to be fine?” 

“I’m tryin’ to  _ make _ it fine. That’s my job as king.” 

“A week ago and we were in Eastre, mournin’ for Da in the Warren. And now we’re s’pposed to pretend like we’re fine and make an alliance?”

“The alliance that Da wanted to make before he died,” Quil clarified. His tone was hard like his frustrated expression towards his brother. “And should I remind ya that the reason I’m here with ya is because he wanted both of us to do this together?” Aster was silent and didn’t look at his brother. Quil gestured to his own chest. “Do ya really think I’m not hurtin’?” he asked, in a softer voice. “I’m just as sad as ya, and I’m only tryin’ to do what I think is right for Pooka.” 

Aster gave a deep sigh and rubbed his temple. “. . . I know. I’m sorry.” 

Quil patted his brother on the back. There was an indistinct voice from somewhere on the ship calling to Quil and Quil moved away from Aster. “That must be the captain. Hope it’s to tell us we’re gettin’ close to Burgess,” he said with a small chuckle. He told Aster to not stay up on deck too long, then pulled his cape closer around him and departed to go find the ship captain. 

The remaining Pooka prince on deck threw a tired glance at the muddled sky. He was missing the sunny disposition of his home island already and although he was trying to pull together a proper, diplomatic front for this political visit to the north, Aster wished deep down that their visit wasn’t to be done to honor their dead father, but to honor the wishes of a living one. But further down he knew Quil was right. Duties should triumph feelings. 

_ That’s why he’s king _ , Aster thought somewhat bitterly-- that bitterness aimed at himself. Quil knew the priorities, even when grieving. He should do the same. 

Aster turned his back to the railing and made his way over to the stairs that would descend below deck so he could retreat to his private cabin. The air maybe stale, but at least it wasn’t frigid. But below descent he took one final look at the sky, his eyes searching the clouds-- perhaps hoping that the drabness would deteriorate and a ray of sun would break its way through the cloud wall. But when no such thing happened he just pulled his cape around him and went below deck. 

***

Aster was pleasantly surprised that the voyage took a week and a half-- the same approximation he was told before their departure. He was sure that the weather might have lengthened their trip by a few days, but was proven wrong by the expertise of the crew who could read the sky and winds as though it were the back of their hands. Sailors aside, he knew they were more-than-capable men hired and trusted by King Nicholas Overland, the ruler of North Kingdom. The kingdom King Quil and Prince Aster of Eastre were to secure an alliance with after years of correspondence and few meetings between King Nicholas and the late king of Eastre. 

North Kingdom was situated as one would expect-- far north. Aster had visited the region once before, but he was just a kit so there weren’t many crisp memories he had of the place. He vaguely recalled the large silhouette of the king, the discovery of snow that turned his fingertips red with cold, and a small child that hid behind the queen’s skirt at the sight of strangers. It was hard to catch up on the happenings of a kingdom so far away, but to Aster’s understanding after reading correspondence between the two monarchs King Nicholas and Queen Tatiana had a baby girl a few years after his only visit to the kingdom. There was an older son too, but he couldn’t gather a lot of information about him. 

The Royal Palace sat in a region of North Kingdom known as Santoff Claussen, which was bordered on two sides by the sea. The town closest to the Royal Palace was Burgess-- a bustling town that prided itself in fishing and seafood delicacies. It also housed a large port that made it an excellent stop for merchants and transportation. Burgess was also where the Pooka princes were to dock in at. When they arrived there was to be a royal sleigh awaiting to take the two to the palace. It was mid-afternoon by the time the ship arrived in port. Excellent timing on behalf of the ship captain, an old man who claimed to be one of the best sailors in Santoff Claussen who had offered his sailing services to the royal family for most of his life. Aster and Quil made sure to thank the captain and his crew after they made it safely to Burgess. 

Earlier below deck, Aster was in his private cabin room, making sure he didn’t leave anything behind. 

_ Got my sketchpad, and my pen, check _ . “Got everything.” 

“I think ya missin’ something,” Quil said. He had just walked into the room with a knapsack on his back. He was ready to go. 

Aster raised a brow. “What?” 

“Look in the mirror.” 

Aster turned to appraise himself in the sheet of glass attached to one of the walls. Where was once iodine skin was gray fur-- the color of his hair-- and a much larger body frame. And long, gray rabbit ears attached to his head that amplified his hearing so much, he could hear the faint conversations of sailors through several walls below deck. His Pooka form. The form was second nature to him at this point of his life that he forgot he had transformed. The ship’s constant coldness annoyed him to the point where he changed appearance because it was warmer in this form. 

“Oh, right.” Quil turned away to give his brother some privacy as Aster focused his mind on regaining his “normal”, or human, appearance. 

“One of the king’s men is waiting for us on the dock to take us to the palace,” Quil said. “I didn’t realize that we will be riding through Burgess.”

Aster hummed as the last of his fur retracted into his body. Transformation didn’t hurt so much anymore, after years of practice and use. Nowadays, it felt like nothing more than pins and needles. He picked up his  _ koarika _ . It was similar to the one he wore on deck a few days prior, but shorter and the tapered pants and light-weight leather boots beneath were more visible. It was his favorite variation of the  _ koarika _ because it made him feel less constricted, while Aster saw Quil wear the longer variation. Once fully dressed-- transformation didn’t always require that one be nude, but it keeps him from tearing his clothes-- Aster gathered his gray hair, which was shoulder length and slightly shaved on the sides, up into a ponytail as it had fallen out when he transformed. 

“Maybe the king has a good feeling about this alliance if he wants us to ride through the town. If he didn’t feel good about it we would probably go another way, yeah?” 

Quil hummed in response and nodded. “Maybe so.” 

The two of them were able to make it off the vessel with no trouble at all. They found the man who arranged for the sleigh ride to the palace on the dock. He was middle aged and wore a heavy jacket made of a brown fur pelt and a matching brown hat. He introduced himself as one of the king’s men in charge of the House of Overland’s stables. 

“We will be riding through the main street of Burgess, I hope you do not mind,” the stable-hand said as he waited for another man-- probably another stable-hand below this one-- to load the Pookas’ belongings up in the back of the sleigh. “The ride to the palace should not take that long.”

The ride didn’t take that long, Aster found out. He also found the sleigh ride to be a novelty. The sleigh itself appeared to be well crafted-- large and red with miniscule yet beautiful details carved into the sides. The seats were cushioned with a black cloth upholstery and the back of the sleigh could seat up to four people, not including the two seats at the front where the head stable-hand and his lackey rode to drive the horses. The head stable-hand in the brown fur jacket directed his lackey to drive them through Burgess’ main street. 

It seemed like the main street was only the bud of Burgess and the rest of the town stemmed off on side-streets going in different directions. Aster noticed wooden and cobblestone stalls and shops on either side of the street. He couldn’t see what the individual storefronts were though, because of the amount of foot traffic that accumulated in the heart of the town at this time. He also got the feeling that the crowd was growing because of the sight of one of the royal sleighs riding through the town, carrying two strangers with strange tattoos on their foreheads that no one’s ever seen before. Aster saw small groups of children wave at the Pooka princes and giving a small smile at the anklebiters-- as he lovingly referred to them as-- he waved back.

Aster’s stature straightened as he did so and he saw Quil do the same out the corner of his eye. Whether it was public knowledge yet to know who they were or not, he still needed to make a good impression for the townsfolk. 

_ ‘If ya want to know how good a ruler is, look at his people.’ _ The words of his late father echoed inside his head. Aster returned another courteous gesture to the onlooking crowd of Burgessians and studied their faces. 

They  _ did _ look happy. He hoped his father’s philosophy was right and that King Nicholas was the good king his father claimed him to be. Only time would tell. 

And the time he would find out was soon drawing to a close when the sleigh reached its destination. The detour through Burgess didn’t take too long and once the townscape slowly transitioned into countryside, Aster was able to talk a little with Quil. 

“How ya feelin’?”

Quil gave his brother a confident smile that looked more like a smirk. “I’m doin’ dandy,” he said. His expression then grew stoic. “Just. . .”

“Thinkin’?”

“. . . Yeah, just thinkin’. About how we need this to go smoothly.”

Aster nodded. ‘We need this.’ Eastre needed this. Although the political status of the Eastre Islands was currently stable, Aster knew that there were definitely plenty of other kingdoms who would like nothing more than to acquire the Pooka land or use them. They couldn’t afford to slack during this visit to North Kingdom, no matter how good of terms their father had with King Nicholas before he passed. Going back to Eastre without forging an alliance was not an answer. Not if the two Pooka could help it. 

Aster put a reassuring hand on his older brother’s shoulder. “It’s gonna go fine, mate. Just cool it. We’ll do what we need to do and make Da proud. We’ll make Eastre proud, yeah?” 

Quil’s eyes softened a little and he slowly nodded. “Yeah.”

When the sleigh reached the palace, the first train of thought that ran through Aster’s mind was about how large it was. In the fragments of childhood memories he retained about this place he hadn’t remembered the size of it. The entire palace was surrounded by a large stone wall, the entrance and exit being a humongous wooden door guarded by several sentries standing at attention. The sleigh approached the door and the head stable-hand identified himself, his lackey, and the two Pooka in the back. One of the sentries called to the other side of the palace wall and soon the door opened wide for the wagon to enter palace grounds. 

The rest of it seemed like a blur. The stable-hands helped Aster and Quil out of the sleigh, where a small group of servants were waiting along with a Royal Guard. Quil greeted the guard while the servants stepped forward to take care of their belongings, and the stable-hands drove the sleigh out of sight. So much action in the blink of an eye and suddenly Aster finds himself following Quil-- following the Royal Guard-- into the palace and down a grand hall bordered by tapestries and portraits and other memorabilia. 

Aster watched Quil. He seemed to be much more composed and less worried than he had been back in the sleigh. His back was completely straight, his shoulders back and a stern face keeping straight ahead-- the stature of a confident king. Quil  _ was _ king, and this was his first major task as king. 

Soon, the two of them were lead to another set of large doors, this time at the end of the hall. The sentry politely excused himself from their presence and slid through the doors. He was about to announce their arrival and they would then be introduced to the royal Overland family. Aster flanked his brother’s right side and gathered himself up mentally. 

He made a promise to do whatever it takes to help secure this alliance. Everything they were going to do during this visit-- everything he was going to do-- he was going to do for his home. 

The prolonged creak of metal hinges broke him from his train of thought and he looked up. The doors to the throne room were opening. It was time.        

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written a long fic in FOREVER so please bear with me as I test out the waters lol.
> 
> Edit: thank you for the support so far! I'll try to write up the first chapter when I have time. College is crazy busy lol


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